


umbrella.

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Birthmarks, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Slice of Life, Soulmates, Warning: there's an implication that Osamu somehow died, Wtf aint this about soulmates why slice of life, sunaosa - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:00:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28373538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's when the rain pours and your soulmate doesn't have an umbrella that the universe decides fate itself is cruel and it's better to leave things as it is.Or: a soulmates AU where two unfortunate souls have to live through the life of never directly acknowledging who their soulmates really are.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Kudos: 13





	umbrella.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, Akiyo here! A graphic thingy I made before helped me create this from being a pestering idea in my head last night. Will be talking more about this fic in the end notes, for now here's the [song](https://open.spotify.com/track/7dujOm8FJcepmVBQjqdswN?si=zTtwcjXMQqSXBomZ1VNwUg) which helped me create the dynamics of this plot. 
> 
> I also didn't beta read this properly and really just went with what Google Docs thought was right lol
> 
> **SPOILER TAG: Like what's in the tags, I could have used the Major Character Death tag but then again, the fic dynamic is quite confusing and I will explain it later. All you have to be aware of is that there are mentions of death in this fic and some parts where Suna indicates a fear of death. Read at your own risk.**

Ever since Suna Rintarou was a child, he had a birthmark on his crown that was hidden underneath a myriad of black hair as years passed. It was just a small brown mark, perhaps a normal one, and it never bothered him. The placement was perfect to him, since he needed not to be extremely conscious about it. 

At the age of ten he knew about soulmates, and that he had one, too. His mother told him he’d meet said soulmate someday when he’s old enough, but his father said there were sad instances when he’d meet him right before his life would end, which worked as a parting gift or closure to meet one’s soulmate before they have to move on. 

His grandfather had told him when he was eight that the birthmark on his head was the spot where he was killed. Suna touched his crown that time and concluded he must have been stabbed in the head. 

However, his grandmother opposed such a more gruesome explanation of the birthmark on his head. She said that the mark was where his soulmate's past life had kissed before they passed and moved to their new life. 

With all those death-related topics and whatnot, Suna became uncomfortable with anything that had to do with soulmates. If soulmates had to meet, why at the very end of their lives? It’s unfair — having to wake up every single day just to feel an outburst of emotions because what suppressed emotion one’s soulmate had, it would leak out of the other. Suna had cried subconsciously oftentimes, as if his soulmate refused to cry and let out their emotions. 

There was an itchy patch on his forearm and up until he was eleven, the symbols or strokes forming on his wrist were still blurry as if it were smudged upon completion. 

Many had been the times when Suna wanted to meet his soulmate, at least touch his face or shake their hands. Among all else, he feared death, because even as a kid, he didn’t believe in the common answer that he’d be in heaven when he dies. Suna knew there was no heaven above them; those were just clouds, clouds, clouds. The sky was only a reflection of the ocean and made up of the particles of light that happily swam in it as if it were another body of water. 

His sister was a baby. She already had a soulmate. But unlike him, her soulmate symbol had already been engraved clearly on her skin.

* * *

Suna meets his soulmate a couple of years after, when he moves to Hyogo at the age of fifteen. He was scouted by sports club representatives of Inarizaki High School, and apparently the school has been a powerhouse since its early years. Suna doesn’t wholeheartedly believe he’s _that_ good to be scouted by non-local coaches, but even then, he’s thankful to earn such an opportunity. 

Around six pm he wakes up, body lazily sitting up from his bed. The sky is only a tad bit dark, with dauntless blue pigments reflecting on land creating a bit of light, but the streetlights are still open. Morning shift workers are outside now wearing their neatly ironed uniforms. It’s a Friday morning but they don’t have school, which to Suna, is a miracle. School is a bit stressful. There are instances when he doesn’t understand someone because their accent gets extremely thick and often mispronounces some words, giving a different meaning to it. He ignores it since the often-ness of the occasion is not so frequent as you’d think. 

With a hoodie to cover up his body from the early morning cold, he locks the house and walks to the nearest convenience store. Inside said store is the cashier who greets him politely, the products of course, and a row of tables and chairs. Something he can order with the money he brought him is only a cup of noodles. Entering the aisle, there are varieties to choose from. Spicy to sour, different brands. Another person enters the convenience store and he looks like he literally just sprung out of bed next door and walked up there. Unlike Suna, who’s worn a hoodie to keep himself from the cold and to look faintly decent, he’s only wearing knee long shorts and a wrinkly shirt. He’s also still fixing his hair as if he really didn’t have even a second to prepare. 

Suna’s lingering stare catches his attention and he looks at him. Familiar, because he’s seen this face twice at school. Or maybe once. He doesn’t remember. 

But the thing is, when he looks at this hideousness, he he remembers too much. They are in the same class but he sees him as just another student in the room. This time, in the guise of being a normal adolescent boy where he’s not wearing his uniform, he recalls all sorts of unidentified memories with him. Quite funnily, he recalls kissing him on a boat under the moonlit sky. It makes him sneer. 

“Are you Suna Rintarou? You’re joining our club, right?” 

They connect. On the table with two empty cups of ramen, they are slumped against the window pane staring at the products. Grogginess kicked in a while ago and they’re kind of sleepy, so staring at weird shaving products is all they can manage to do. Suna moves his head and studies Miya Osamu’s features. Yes, he’s Miya Osamu, brother to Miya Atsumu, and they’re twins. He’s a better company, though. Atsumu once accidentally smacked his face with the back of his hand after dramatically and animatedly narrating his gossip. He said sorry after a day. 

“Do you believe in soulmates?” He expects no for an answer because people like Osamu would think it’s just a childhood-ancient excuse for birthmarks and random skin beauty marks. Although, Osamu nods. He believes in soulmates. He believes the universe had already someone for him since the time his soul was woven by the strings of fate. Suna wants to indulge, but the other starts to explain for him as if he read his mind. 

He clears his throat before proceeding. “I have a birthmark on my back, at the part where it should pierce my left lung and heart. My soulmate symbol is blurry, though.”

“Same.” When he suddenly answers, Osamu glances at him then looks down at his hands, smiling. “Isn’t it annoying? You might end up meeting your soulmate right when you’re about to die.”

“That isn’t going to happen if you’ve already met your soulmate.” Suna smirks at him. “It doesn’t matter if you noticed or not.” 

Right when they’re about to head home, by the glass door of the convenience store, it starts to rain. The downpour is heavy enough to require an umbrella. Suna didn’t bring an umbrella like the dumbass he was, so he ends up saying, “have a safe voyage to home. Didn’t bring an umbrella so I’ll have to wait here until it stops.” 

“Excuses, excuses,” Osamu says as he pays for a small umbrella and hands it to Suna. “You don’t have to pay for it. Just get home safe and that’s more than what it costs.” 

Suna blushes but Osamu is busy smiling and figuring out how to open his umbrella. It’s probably broken. “You can have this one you bought for me,” Suna offers. The other shakes his head and finally opens the umbrella, holding it up so the contraption hooks on top of the metal stick. 

“Nah, you don’t have to. Besides, Ma would get angry if I took home a different umbrella even if this is broken.” Shared laughter. And it feels too good to be true. “Get home safe, Suna.”

“You too.”

(The sad part about it is that only one of them gets home safe. Slippery are the roads and swift are the vehicles. When you put those together, there will be casualties. He finds out hours later that a boy his age has been hit by a passing van. A part of him thinks it’s not Osamu. The latter gets home safely despite his stubborn umbrella. 

Yet the emptiness, the hollow void in Suna’s heart keeps growing. It must have been him. It shouldn’t have been him.)

* * *

In another universe, Suna meets his soulmate in Paris of all fucking places. It’s the holidays when he does, walking his way towards the apartment of his friend, a famous chocolatier who bribed him with cookies to share his company. He’s in France because he was scouted, said his skills were of international potential so now he’s cramming to learn French even if he had three months to do so. Paris isn’t really the dream — the paradise his friends told him it was. Of course it’s pretty, keeping the structures of the building quite aesthetic, the fashion district is like a hallway to heaven, but just like most countries, paradise doesn’t include all the flaws, roughened edges and vandalized informalities. 

He’s just thankful he hasn’t met anyone racist yet. He doesn’t want to get deported for misconduct. 

Tendou Satori’s apartment is right in front of him, two, four and six engraved on a metal plate at the top part of the wooden door. One door bell is enough to catch the owner’s attention and Suna immediately smells the cookies once Tendou opens the door. A quirky welcome makes him chuckle. In the land where everything feels wrong and right and wrong again, Suna knows it is just that he visits a friend who knows how to speak the language his heart beats normally to. 

“As much as I want you to stay with me here, I’d prefer it if we go outside,” which leads them out in the open, where _outside_ meant a stroll around the park. Tendou lives in the neighborhood where most movies are filmed. “I even got a cameo before,” he tells, almost as if he weren’t proud. “I was asked to be an extra for a scene but I was already late to work. However, they were paying a lot for an extra cast so I couldn’t resist.” 

Komori Motoya would’ve done the same. Suna isn’t sure if he would. He acknowledges himself to be one that would probably risk an important career for temporary relief of much bigger pay. In this case, he can’t do that. He’s around foreigners who may or may not treat him well. So far, most of the people he’s talked to using broken French are quite nice enough to help him with his accent and pronunciation; and to help him get home safely because it’s sort of hard to memorize unfamiliar structures of roads. 

Tendou finds a vendor of ice cream and disappears from Suna’s sight. With this, the tall, young Japanese man saunters a lazily walk across the street, where he texts Tendou first because he might go apeshit if he misconstrues Suna’s disappearance. In front of a Japanese restaurant, he sees foreigners and some people of his descent, happily eating their food inside. Some are families, some are couples, some are alone. The tenderness this store gives (for better summary: Suna’s homesickness) brings him to tears, but before anyone can see him bawling his eyes out in front of a restaurant, he wipes them away from his face. 

He plans to go back to the park and tell this to his friend, but the rain is pouring and he uses the restaurant as a shed. He groans. “I want to buy a fucking hat that has a little umbrella structure on top of it so I won’t have to keep forgetting to bring an umbrella.” Luckily, a store nearby sells umbrellas, so he cops one and goes out again. About to cross the street, he notices the guy by the pedestrian crossing light post who only shields himself from the rain using his ball cap and his thick layers of clothing. That isn’t enough protection, Suna assumes. As much as he wants to ignore the fact he saw that and feels a little, unexpected pity, he walks up to the guy and angles the umbrella above his head so both of them are protected from the heavy droplets of rain. 

The guy looks at him and in that moment, Suna almost thinks his life flashes before his eyes. His mind won’t register the face as a stranger, as a man he just met, so all sorts of curiosity bloom in his head like a garden of flowers. When they cross from the street, Suna is fighting the urge to say a name. _Miya Osamu_. Thinking about feels both right and wrong at the same time. What more if he voices out his name, syllable by syllable? 

It challenges him when the rain keeps pouring and he can’t put the umbrella away from the man. 

“M-Miya. _Miya Osamu_.” The guy smiles and bows at him, two signs that signify he _is_ the man who owns the name. 

But the rain stops pouring and Suna closes the umbrella. The Osamu guy waves at him and turns his back, walking away. It’s only good for Suna to walk away as well. So he walks away, wondering if he had previously met the man or not. 

(When he turns his back, Osamu hangs his head low as he fails to rub off the smile on his face. On his way to the station, upon instinct, consciousness and selfish intent, he whispers the name, “ _Suna Rintarou_ ,” like it’s been practiced by his larynx and tongue. Like he’s said this name before. 

And he doesn’t know if he really has, but to him, it no longer matters.)

**Author's Note:**

> So here's the explanation: the reason why I didn't put the Major Character Death tag is because there is a heavy chance that Osamu is alive. That part where Suna moved to Hyogo is either a dream or a parallel universe. You decide. I personally preferred it to be a dream. If you think it's a parallel universe, imagine it as the one in Kimi No Nawa.
> 
> Suna and Osamu didn't want to directly imply that they were each other's soulmate because the souls and a faint memories of their past lives still remained in them. Therefore, since Suna died tragically back then upon knowing Osamu was his soulmate, both of them subconsciously ended up not telling each other the confirmation. 
> 
> This fic is absolutely weird. I crammed this for three hours because we have an important school project to make and I just really want to get this out of my head haha.


End file.
